Missing
by Man Fredd
Summary: When a sadistic blast from the past endures a breakdown and finds his prey, what happens?
1. The Elegance

**Hey Y'all. This is a joint between me and Smilie-loz-x . WE OWN NOTHING (BUT I OWN HER) XD**

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**_~Missing~_**

There was a small, nondescript white van in the street. It could have belonged to anyone. Yet in this van, someone sat, watching as his prey as she entered her home. She was a redhead, approximately five foot seven inches, and was wearing her usual tight tank top and black slacks. She sashayed up to the door, and unlocked it with the gracefulness of a ballet dancer. She truly was the most elegant creature the onlooker had ever seen. It was the elegant prey that had once been his faithful companion thirty years ago, the exact anniversary of their parting. High school never ends, some say. High school had never ended in the onlooker's mind. His head was forever filled with images and memories of the pair's forays into the vicious society that was high school.

Kicking off her shoes, the woman sat herself down on the beige leather sofa, resting her feet upon the wooden coffee table. Watching through the window, he was starstruck, captivated by her beauty; he watched in awe as she tossed back her hair, interlacing his fingers as he comtemplated his course of action. They would soon be together again. He glanced to the photo of a young adolescent on his dashboard. The same alluring locks of hair, the same high cheekbones that accentuated her face, flaunting her true radiance; the same woman, thirty years ago.

He swallowed as he climbed out of the van, leaving it unlocked for his return. He turned his head to look both ways down the street. Not a single being in sight, nobody was protruding the darkness and the silence of the night but him. As he knocked on her front door, he felt his heart pounding in his chest, all the more so as the door opened, his prey standing before him, who greeted him with a simple "Can I help you?"

To the ground she fell, with great force as she felt two hands collide with her chest; his hands. The hands she had once taken and led on wonderful adventures. As she rose, she tried to reach for the gun that lay on the coffee table. However, she was stopped by a sharp, brutal kick to her stomach, sending her on all fours. She flinched as a slimy substance landed on her arm - his saliva. As he pulled her up, he took hold of the gun, and held it to her head as he wound one arm around her neck.

"February 28th, 1979. You remember?" He spat, leading her out of the door and into that same white van, as she tried to pull herself backwards - she had no luck as such. As he slammed the back doors of the van, she smacked her hands several times against the metal interior, stopped by a merciless pain as she felt the van moving. Within seconds it began to pick up speed, causing her to wonder what this attacker was going to do to her, and why.

"Who..." She paused as the van turned a corner, rolling her violently into the side of the van. She winced as she raised a and to her head, gasping as she felt blood slowly trickling from her forehead. "Who are you!" She demanded, biting her lip as they turned another corner - another smack into the side. She tilted her head to the rear view mirror, which was visible from where she lay. There, she saw his eyes; hollow and empty - yet so familiar.

"You don't know?" He retorted, whilst she searched her mind for those eyes, and that raspy voice that once again was so familiar. "It's only been.. Thirty years since you ditched me!" He screamed, his driving was becoming reckless, which was inflicting intimidation and fear upon her.

She gulped as the van came to a halt, the engine switching off with the jangle of some keys. She heard footsteps, scraping the ground and kicking what sounded like gravel. She had been trained to find out as much information as she could, as a natural instinct. Now, however, both her mind and heart were racing too fast for her to process what was going on. She blinked as the doors opened to him brandishing the gun.

"Get out if the van." He ordered, yet she lay there still and nonplussed. "I said," he bellowed, seizing her arm. "Get out!" He jolted her arm, causing her to cry out in pain. She groaned as he pushed her to the ground, sending the gravel astray. She cried out as the tiny, minuscule rocks dug into her skin, scraping and slicing it open.

As she rose, she bit her lip again as tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. "Ah." She gasped, as he grabbed her wrist, pulling it behind her back. "Please," She begged as he shoved her forward, digging his long, hard nails into her skin. "Please don't kill me. I have a daughter!" She pleaded as he guided her across the street. "You don't want to leave a young fifteen year-old girl all alone do you? She has no father!" She hoped to play up to an emotional side of her attacker as he held the gun to her head, opening a door.

He led her into a house, as he retaliated. "I know." He uttered, grabbing her by the hair as he pulled her up the stairs. She could hear his breathing was unsteady, loud an most definitely it sent a shiver down her spine.

"How... How do you know?" She whimpered, her lip quivering.

He led her into what looked to be a nursery, canary-yellow, and almost as perfect as the day it was created. In one dust-consumed corner sat a small rocking horse and an old dolls house. Opposite the playthings was a simple white cot, with pink blankets laid haphazardly over the top. A mobile was hanging above it, spinnng as it played a soft, tranquilizing melody.

He threw her down onto the floor once again, hurling the door to a close, with a boom that echoed instantaneously. "Because," he croaked. "I've been watching you; waiting for the right moment to make that world of yours fall apart." He explained, leaning back against the wall as he crossed his arms, still holding the gun.

She sat up, tucking her knees into her chest, she began to fear for her life. "W-Why?" She stuttered, glancing up to him with a terrified look into her eyes.

"You don't... You don't remember this place? You don't remember me?" He screamed, anger building up inside him, as if he were in a classic comic where steam would be coming out of his ears, as she slowly shook her head.

"I ate lunch with you. I went everywhere with you for two years!" He yelled, launching his foot with great speed. She grunted as the foot smashed with her face, blood trickling from her nose as she lay unconscious on the floor.

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** Thanks for reading!! Review, or the puppy dies!! It's a cute little Golden Retriever, let it live!!**


	2. The Past

**Hey Hey! Thanks so much for the reviews, the puppy has made it!! Here's the next part of the saga from me and Smilie-Loz-x (Laura).**

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Back at the crime lab, Warrick was just getting ready to start his break. He had worked a double shift now and was just heading into the break room to catch a quick and well-needed nap. As he arrived he noticed that the computer in the break room was oddly free. He thought he might as well take advantage of the situation, and sat down to check his email.

He got what he was expecting – an inbox full of spam from various bookies, a reminder of his gambling days. He was just about to delete them all when he saw and untitled message from an unknown source. Something told him that he was going to regret opening it - but he couldn't resist. The message, written in the same nondescript Times New Roman font used in all the CSI's official reports, shocked him out of his mind.

The screen in front of him showed an old abandoned nursery. It was filthy – and uninhabitable. Yet – someone was there. The same someone who had come to mean more than life itself to him recently stared out from the screen, looking completely petrified. She was tightly bound in a thick rope, creating blood pools in her skin. Her face was nearly unrecognisable with the red hand marks and black streaks of mascara where she had been crying. Her beautiful long strawberry blonde hair had been viciously scraped back from her head in a tight ponytail. Yet Warrick saw none of this – he only saw the look of terror and unrelenting pain in her eyes and the inhuman way she had been bound. He could hardly speak.

"Catherine" was all he managed before he fled the break room to leave CSI and look for her.

"Whoa man! Where's the fire?" Nick asked on his way out. Getting no reply, he followed Warrick out of the building and out to his car. He grabbed his friends elbow just as he was about to get in the car, forcing him to turn round. Seeing the streaks down Warrick's face, he started to worry. "Man, what's wrong?"  
"Nick, I can't talk about it"  
"War, man, you can, I'm always here for you."  
"Nick, you have to leave me to do this myself. You – can't know."  
"Okay man, but if you ever need anyone to talk to."

"I know. Thanks" Warrick finished, climbing into his car and speeding out of the car park.

As Nick returned to the break room, he was completely bewildered as to the cause of his friend's distress and upset. He barely heard anyone as he walked past the labs, as he was deep in thought.

As he arrived at his destination, the coffee pot, he too noticed the unusual sight of a free computer. He sat down and turned the screen on, and was confused what he saw. Warrick had left his email open, which was very unlike him, as he was a very private person and didn't like people snooping. Nick, respectfully quit off the screen. What he also saw, which was unusual, was a piece of paper coming out of the printer as it beeped. Picking up the paper, his jaw dropped automatically as he lay eyes on the picture.

"What the..." He uttered to himself, as he realised that was why Warrick had suddenly left, having left Nick clueless. "Archie!" He shouted, as he spotted the A/V technician making his way over to his own section of the lab. Jumping up, the paper in hand, Nick ran over to him, his breathing was unsteady, as he worried for his friend. "I need you to process this., off the books for now." He instructed, in a low voice so he didn't attract the attention of Grissom, who stepped out of his office.

"Why?" Archie questioned, as Nick handed over the printout. His eyes widened as he stared at the picture. "Is that?" He began, as the texan led him to the A/V lab. "Is that Catherine?" He stressed as he slid the paper into the scanner.

"Yes, it is, Archie. It's Cath." He confirmed, biting his lip as Archie switched the projector off so the two could use the computer without the image being blown up upon the SMARTboard.

_**Missing:**_

As Warrick knocked on the front door of Catherine's home, he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He bit his lip as the door opened to Lindsey Willows. "Lindsey, where's your Mom?" He demanded, as she tucked away her iPod.

Shrugging, she opened the door further to let him in. "I don't know, when I came home the front door was open. I figured she forgot to close it." She replied, watching as Warrick bent down beside the sofa, picking up Catherine's ID for the lab.

"Lindsey," he said as he got up, hlding the ID card by it's edges. "Your Mom's been kidnapped. I gotta call it in and the guys have to investigate." He informed her as he moved closer to her. Her eyes broadened as her mouth gaped.

"Oh my God." Her voice trembled, her lip quivering with fear for her mother's life. She knew how dangerous Catherin's job was, and knew of the predicaments it had placed her in. Seven years ago a man had tricked her into a fake kidnap deal, as her mother had told her, she had cunningly passed the finger to Sara as she left the diner with the suspect.

**_Missing:_**

"Still don't remember me, Catherine?" The man asked as he watched her wake. As she moved her head it dawned on her she was in a different room, one that caused alarm bells to ring in her head. She knew who he was; it was the best friend she had abandoned in high school, for a group of girls who changed her from a tomboy into a glitz and glam party girl.

"Ma- Matthew?" She stuttered, wriggling like there was no tomorrow, realising that her arms and legs were bound tight with rope, chafing her skin and causing her pain as she struggled to try and free herself, with no avail. Tears fell from her eyes as he walked in circles around her, holding the gun by his side - her gun. Her nine millimetre Smith and Wesson, or as the CSIs liked to call it, her Sig Sauer. She bit her lip as she recalled refilling the magazine with bullets earlier that day after a shootout with a suspect.

"That's right, Matthew Conners." He came to a stop by the untouched, dusty bed, it's metal frame full of rust and decay. He picked up a photo from the bedside cabinet, preserved within a silver frame. He kneeled down beside her head, holding the photo to her eyes.

Catherine swallowed as her eyes widened. The photo was of two young teenagers; a smiling, happy boy and a beautiful redhead with a crooked smile, both holding the American flag. "Fourth of July... 1978? You still have that?" She asked, her voice hoarse and low.

"Yeah." He nodded his head, glancing at the photo. "Yeah I do!" He exclaimed as he threw the photo at the window opposite, smashing it with an almighty crash. "What do you have, huh?! Nothing!" He shrieked as he got up, pointing the gun to her head. "You just totally blanked me, you turned me into a nobody!"

**_Missing:_**

"We'll find her, War'. We will." Nick assured Warrick, who was pacing around the A/V lab as Archie tweaked the photo Warrick had received just about into oblivion. "Where's Lindsey?" He asked, his arms crossed as he worried not only for Catherine, but for Warrick. He was breaking down. Catherine had been missing for at least three hours and they were getting nowhere.

"She's..." He began, taking a seat by Archie, placing his head in his hands. "She's with Lily, Cath's Mom. I took her over there, and filled her in. They're waiting by the phone." He spoke, staring at the picture which was blown up on the SMARTboard, the case was now official, with Grissom, Sara and Brass processing her house.

"Archie... Zoom in on the top left." He instructed the technician, having spotted something peculiar. "Oh God." He whispered to himself as they focused on the image. There were at least twenty photos of Catherine on the wall, some at crime scenes and some with Lindsey. "The son of a bitch has been following her."

Nick bowed his head as Archie zoomed in further, focusing on two images. A blossoming young girl with the same hair, cheekbones and eyes.

"He knew her," Archie confirmed, glancing behind him to Nick.

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**Review.... Or the puppy AND the kitten die from blunt force trauma. **


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